


Won't Come Back

by lostresidentevilpotter



Series: When She Leaves [1]
Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-09 12:56:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20995178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostresidentevilpotter/pseuds/lostresidentevilpotter
Summary: She breaks Alicia's heart when she leaves.Set between 4x16 and 5x01.





	Won't Come Back

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, my friends! I cannot focus on one thing at a time, so here's a oneshot I thought up and wrote real quick!

She breaks Alicia’s heart when she leaves.

She doesn’t know. Never will.

Alicia never put her feelings into words. She thought she didn’t have to. Thought her actions were enough to explain how she felt without actually coming out and saying it.

Alicia always sits next to Al at movie night. She always sits on Al’s left, always holds the bag of popcorn, always lets Al eat the majority of it. Al always sits with her legs spread a little too wide so her knee always rests against Alicia’s. Alicia doesn’t know if Al has ever noticed. Sometimes, though, Al will rest her arm against the back of Alicia’s chair. She all but has her arm around Alicia’s shoulders, and whenever that happens, Alicia’s heart hammers in her throat until the movie ends.

Two weeks before Al packs up and takes off in the MRAP, they watch a movie Alicia can’t name to save her life. The movie itself didn’t leave much of an impression on Alicia, but halfway through, Al places her hand against the back of Alicia’s chair and leans in close.

“Isn’t this the most boring fucking movie ever?” Al whispers.

Alicia turns her head instinctively toward Al, not realizing how close it’s going to put their faces. Al grins, eyebrows raised, and Alicia nods.

“Yeah, it’s awful,” Alicia whispers back. John and June, sitting in the row in front of Al and Alicia, seem to be engrossed in the film. Strand’s snoring at the end of Alicia’s row.

Al jerks her head toward the door. “Come on,” she says. “I want to show you something.”

Alicia follows Al warily, glancing back at Luci before she disappears into the hallway. Luci just shrugs.

“Where are we going?” Alicia asks.

Al leads the way through the halls of the denim factory. She walks with confidence, back straight, and she spins around to face Alicia. She continues to walk backward as she says, “Out of there. That movie is boring as shit.”

“You said you have to show me something.”

“I do. What? Don’t trust me?”

Al smirks, and Alicia has to hold back a _well, not really _response in favor of shrugging. Al leads Alicia to a storage closet, and Alicia balks when Al pulls it open.

“Are you going to kill me and hide my body in a closet?” Alicia jokes weakly.

Al laughs, and it echoes off the empty hall around them. “No,” she says. “Wait here. I hid something –”

Al disappears into the closet and emerges with a bottle of scotch in hand. Al grins and offers the bottle to Alicia. Alicia’s eyes widen, and she takes the bottle from Al, turning it over in her hands.

“Where did you get this?” Alicia gasps.

Al shrugs and jams her hands into her pockets. “I stole it from Strand,” she admits. She pulls the keys to the MRAP out of her pocket and holds them up. “Come on. We should have a drink.”

*

One drink becomes two becomes three becomes too many to count. Alicia sprawls out across the seats on one side of the van, and Al sprawls out on the other side. Alicia laughs so hard it hurts, and she doesn’t even remember what Al had said that was so funny. Maybe it’s the scotch.

“This is so much better than that movie,” Alicia says when she gets her laughter under control.

“Oh, God,” Al says. “You know what the worst part was?”

“What?”

“John and June looked like they were actually enjoying it!”

“Oh my God, I _know_,” Alicia says. “Strand was snoring! Morgan told me not to go to movie night, and I thought he was just being a dick, but now I know he was warning me!”

“I couldn’t take it anymore,” Al says. “Here, pass the bottle back.”

Alicia sits up and hands the bottle of scotch across the aisle. Al takes a swig, swallows, then winces. For a moment, Al’s eyes glaze over. She seems to snap out of it and sets the bottle down.

“There’s something I have to tell you,” Al says. Alicia swallows hard and dares to meet Al’s gaze from across the aisle. There’s no reason for her to feel nervous, but it cuts through the scotch coursing through her veins.

“Okay,” Alicia says. “Shoot.”

Al inhales deeply. “I can’t do this anymore,” she says. “I can’t stay here.”

It’s like someone has yanked the earth out from under Alicia. Except she’s lying down. “What?” she says feebly.

“We aren’t doing what I thought we were going to,” Al says. “We aren’t helping people. I’m not – I’m not being useful sitting around a factory and watching movies. I haven’t had anyone to interview in weeks – months? I don’t know. But I can’t live like this anymore.”

Silence falls between them. Alicia’s too stunned to speak at first. She sits up, too quickly, and her head spins. “You’re leaving?” Alicia says.

“Yes.”

“When?”

“I don’t know. Soon.”

“Have you told –?”

“You’re the first person I’ve told,” Al says.

Alicia nods. She hasn’t quite wrapped her head around the idea yet. Al. _Leaving_. Disappearing off into the country somewhere. Probably never to be seen again.

“Alicia?”

Alicia looks up. “Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

Alicia swallows down her feelings. “Yeah,” she says. “Just…shocked, I guess.”

“I’m sorry if this ruins your night.”

“No, it’s – it’s okay,” Alicia says. “I just – I don’t know what to say.”

They sit in silence for a few more minutes before Alicia stands and clears her throat, straightens her shirt out, runs her fingers through her hair.

“I’m gonna go in,” Alicia says. “I, uh, I’ve had a long day.”

Al nods and gets to her feet. She puts the cap on the bottle of scotch and tucks it away. “I’ll walk you in,” Al offers.

Alicia nods. She waits for Al to lock up the van, and they walk side-by-side back into the factory. The movie’s long over. It appears as if everyone’s in bed. It’s quiet. Alicia assumed Al meant she’d walk them back into the factory, not all the way to her bedroom, but Al bypasses her own room to escort Alicia to hers.

Alicia hesitates in the doorway and turns back. “You’re sure?” she says quietly.

Al sighs but gives a weary nod. “It’s time,” she says.

“Oh.”

_This is it_ Alicia’s mind screams at her. _You need to tell her _now. _Maybe she’ll stay if she knows_.

“Yeah.”

Alicia presses her lips together and avoids meeting Al’s eyes. “We’ll miss you around here,” Alicia says. It’s a lame thing to say, but Al’s eyes soften, and she reaches out and squeezes Alicia’s shoulder.

“Goodnight, Alicia,” Al says.

“Goodnight.”

Alicia doesn’t close her door until she sees Al disappear into her own room and shut her door.

*

Alicia doesn’t spend that whole night crying on and off.

Definitely not.

*

Alicia rolls out of bed in the morning, hungover and puffy-eyed. She stares at herself in the mirror as she brushes her teeth and hates herself for not saying something.

_She’s not even gone yet. You still have time. You could change her mind. Maybe she’s even – _

Alicia’s thoughts are interrupted by someone else entering the shared bathroom. Alicia spits her mouthful of toothpaste into the sink and keeps her head bowed. She glances up at the mirror and sees Al drop a pile of clothes onto a chair outside of the nearest shower stall.

What, she can’t wait five minutes for Alicia to leave the bathroom? June and Luci always wait. Charlie waits. Everyone else waits, but Al’s behind Alicia, stripping, as Alicia’s just trying to finish brushing her goddamn teeth.

Maybe it’s because she’s hungover. Normally Alicia would never say anything, but now, she sets her toothbrush down and turns around to snap, “What? You can’t wait until I’m done?”

Al looks back at her in surprise. “What?”

“You have to shower that badly?”

“Alicia, I’m as hungover as you are, and I want to shower. Is that a crime?”

Alicia rolls her eyes. “It’s annoying. Everyone else waits their turn.”

Al shrugs. “Sorry. Don’t worry. Probably won’t happen again.”

That stings. Alicia spits into the sink one last time and storms out of the bathroom.

*

Maybe Alicia’s still hungover while she’s preparing lunch. She chops carrots for the soup June’s preparing. June talks incessantly, but Alicia can’t hear her over her pounding headache, so she just nods and _mm-hmms_ her way through it.

“June! Whatcha making?” Al says, too loudly, as she strolls into the kitchen.

As Al and June launch into a conversation, Alicia chops carrots. Aggressively. She doesn’t know what they’re talking about, laughing about. She can’t focus on their conversation. At least, not until –

“Hey, don’t let me forget, there’s something I want to talk about at lunch.”

The knife slices through Alicia’s finger. The knife clatters to the floor, and she stares at the blood pouring out of her finger onto the cutting board. She’s seen blood before. Obviously. But something – maybe it’s the hangover – stops her from acting.

“Oh, my,” June says. Al’s already across the room. She grabs the towel off the counter and rushes to Alicia’s side, grabbing her hand. Al wraps the towel around Alicia’s hand and holds pressure against the wound – which really isn’t that bad, as far as Alicia can tell. Alicia jumps like she’s been shocked, surprised to see the concern laced into Al’s features.

“You okay?” Al murmurs.

“It’s just a small cut,” Alicia stammers.

“It’s not a small cut,” Al replies. “It’s really bleeding. June!”

“Keep applying pressure,” June instructs. “I’ll be right back with the first aid kit.”

*

Al tells everyone she’s leaving over lunch. Alicia’s bandaged hand rests on the table, throbbing, as she eats her soup silently with her other hand. She listens to Morgan argue with Al, trying to convince her to stay, and Alicia secretly hopes he succeeds.

Of course, Al’s mind doesn’t change. Not when Morgan argues with her, not when June argues with her, not when John or Strand or Luci argue with her. In fact, she leaves the table more convinced than ever of her decision to leave.

The only person who doesn’t argue is Alicia.

*

Alicia lies awake for the second night in a row, injured hand resting on her chest. The pain has dulled in her hand, but it’s sharp in her chest.

She tries not to think about how Al’s asleep just down the hall. Or maybe she isn’t sleeping. Alicia wouldn’t know. She can’t see through walls.

But Al said she was leaving, and it felt like she’d ripped Alicia’s heart out of her chest, and she’s right down the hall, and she doesn’t even know.

Al doesn’t know, and Alicia can’t just spit it out.

*

The days pass too quickly, and nothing changes.

Al is still leaving.

Alicia is still silent.

It’s worse than that, though. Alicia’s getting more and more withdrawn, or hostile, and she knows she’s doing it, but she can’t stop herself. Especially once Al picks a date, only a week away.

Alicia has one week.

*

Alicia’s no gardener, that’s for sure. She can’t help but think of Nick as she waters their crops, careful not to trample any of the plants.

Al leaves in three days, and this morning, as Alicia walked into the bathroom, Al stepped out of the shower with just a towel wrapped haphazardly around her torso.

“What happened to waiting your turn?” Al had quipped, an infuriating smirk crossing her face.

Alicia spun on her heels and walked out.

And now she’s watering plants. At least it gives her something to do besides think. It’s too easy here, in their cozy pseudo-fortress, to spend hours agonizing over everything, everyone that she’s lost.

Alicia vaguely hears the back door slam, but she doesn’t look back.

“Hey!” Al calls. “What’re you doing?”

“What does it look like?”

Alicia hears Al approaching the garden, and she stiffens but still doesn’t turn to face her.

“Looks like you’re wasting your time,” Al answers. “June was watering earlier.”

Al stops walking at Alicia’s side and puts her hands on her hips. When Alicia finally looks over at her, Al grins. Alicia doesn’t even try to smile. Every time she looks at Al, she can only think about how she’s leaving, how she’s been packing up her life here, how she’ll be gone in three days.

“You okay?” Al asks.

Al has asked Alicia this same question at least once a day since she first broke the news to her. Each time, Alicia’s answer is the same: yeah.

Alicia stares down at the tomatoes and presses her lips together. Al waits patiently for her answer.

“No,” Alicia finally says. “I guess I’m not.”

“I know.”

Alicia startles and looks over at Al. Al smiles gently, and Alicia hates the way her bangs hang in her face, hates that she wants to reach up and push Al’s hair back, pull her in –

“You _know_?” Alicia questions.

“You’ve made it pretty obvious,” Al says. “You’ve been sulky ever since I told you I was leaving.”

Alicia’s jaw clenches. “You’re walking away,” she hisses. “From everything we’re trying to build. How could you do that to us?”

“Us?” Al says, tilting her head to the side. “Or to you? You’re the only person here who’s mad.”

“Everyone else –”

“They’re upset,” Al interrupts. “But they aren’t angry. They understand why I’m going.”

Alicia throws her hands up. “Well, I don’t, okay? What we have here – we have something _good_. How can you give it up?”

Al smiles sadly. “This isn’t the life I’m supposed to have,” she says. “I don’t expect you to understand that.”

“Good. Because I don’t.”

Al nods. “If you want to talk about it,” she says, “you know where to find me.”

Al starts to walk away. Alicia desperately wants to call for her to come back, wants to beg her to stay, but she grits her teeth and rips the gardening gloves off her hands. She throws them to the dirt, blinks the tears away, and leaves the garden before June or Charlie or Luci stumble across her.

*

Two days before Al’s set to leave, June sobs over the salad she’s preparing for dinner. John puts his arms around her and leads her away, and Alicia silently takes over, not daring to look at Luci.

On one hand, Alicia’s happy Al isn’t here to witness June breaking down.

But on the other hand –

Never mind.

*

Dinner that night is a quiet affair. June has pulled it together, but she clutches onto John’s hand through the entire meal. Alicia’s eyes rarely leave her bowl of salad. If she looks up, she’ll be looking straight at Al, and she doesn’t trust herself to do that. Even Charlie, usually the chattiest of them all, doesn’t have much to say. Alicia thinks Charlie has been strategically placed between Al and June, reversing their usual positions at the table.

Maybe John asked Charlie to switch.

Al finishes eating first and carries her dishes to the sink. Alicia hears them clank against the metal and jumps as Al’s hands slam against the counter. Everyone else at the table jumps, too, even Strand, and they all instinctively look up.

“I’m not dying,” Al blurts. “I’m leaving. Those aren’t the same things. I survived just fine in my van before, and I will continue to survive. You’ll see me again.”

Alicia exchanges a glance with Luci on her right, but if Luci has anything to say, she keeps it to herself.

“I think we all have a right to be upset, Al,” Morgan says.

“You can be upset, but Jesus! Don’t act like you’re about to attend my funeral!”

“We aren’t,” Strand says, but his voice lacks conviction.

“I know you all have things you want to say,” Al says. “So why don’t you all just start saying them? It’s better than whatever you’re all currently doing.” When no one speaks, Al points a finger at Alicia. “I know _you _have something to say.”

Alicia blinks and sets her fork down. “Maybe there’s a reason I haven’t said it,” Alicia says.

“Well, I’m inviting you to say it now,” Al says.

Alicia’s heart pounds in her chest, but she swallows and shakes her head. “What’s the point?” Alicia asks. “Nothing I say – nothing any of us say – will stop you. You’ll still leave. You won’t come back.”

Al’s jaw sets. “That isn’t true,” she says quietly.

“Isn’t it?”

June abruptly stands, her chair scraping against the floor. John jumps up and follows after her, and that seems to give Strand and Charlie permission to flee, leaving Alicia at the table with Luci and Morgan.

“You can still change your mind,” Morgan says.

“She won’t,” Alicia says calmly. _Maybe if you told her how you feel_, Alicia thinks. Alicia looks at Morgan and shrugs before she stands. “Nothing we can say can change the way she feels,” Alicia says. She carries her dishes to the sink. Al doesn’t move out of the way, so Alicia reaches around her, even though it forces Alicia to brush against her. She feels Al’s eyes on her the entire time it takes her to leave the dining room.

Alicia can hear June crying when she passes by the bedroom she shares with John. Alicia closes the door behind her, hands shaking.

She only stops herself from punching a hole through the drywall when she realizes she could break her hand.

*

Alicia can hear Strand and John helping Al carry her things from her room to the MRAP. She can hear their voices, muffled through the wall. It’s well past three in the afternoon, but Alicia has no intentions of getting out of bed. She feels disgusting, so she can only imagine how she must look.

There’s a knock at her door for dinner, and Alicia heaves a sigh and finally gets up. She stares in the mirror stuck on the back of the door, stares at the dark circles under her eyes. Normally she wouldn’t leave her room in just a tank top and shorts, but she doesn’t care enough to search for something else. She pulls the door open.

“Dinner,” Luci says softly. She looks Alicia over and smiles sympathetically. “Come on,” Luci says, holding her hand out. “I promised Al we’d all have one last meal together.”

Alicia shakes her head, leans against the doorframe. “I don’t want to go.”

“I’m not giving you a choice,” Luci says. She wiggles her fingers. “Come on. If June has to go, you do, too.”

“You can’t make me.”

“Strand can.”

“You and I both know that’s a fight I’ll win.”

“Please,” Luci pleads. “Just do this for her.”

“No.”

“Then do it for me.”

Alicia hesitates, willing herself not to cry anymore. “I can’t.”

“You aren’t the only person here that’s losing her,” Luci says. “We’re all going through this together, Alicia. So please. Take my hand. And let’s go eat dinner.”

*

Alicia expects dinner to be like it was last night. Quiet. Full of tension. But when Alicia and Luci walk into the dining room, everyone at the table is laughing. The laughter persists as Alicia and Luci take their seats.

It’s an oddly lighthearted affair, the group’s last meal with Al. But not for Alicia. She doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t smile. She eats, listens to the conversation – steered carefully away from the topic of Al’s departure set for tomorrow morning.

Alicia can’t focus on anything else, no matter what everyone else talks about.

When dinner ends, Alicia heads out to the garden for some fresh air. She stares up at the darkened sky and breathes deeply. She thought she’d had it all figured out. Her life, that is. More than once, too. First with Berkeley. Then at the ranch, with Jake. Then the baseball stadium, with her family. Then again, now, at the denim factory, with her friends –

Alicia assumed she’d eventually work up the courage to say something to Al. Or maybe something would come up, and Alicia would be presented with the perfect opportunity to tell Al how she feels. But it hasn’t happened, and Al leaves in the morning.

This is Alicia’s last chance to create the opportunity to say something. Or to just say it, consequences be damned. Besides, how badly can it go? Al is leaving.

It starts to rain. Alicia closes her eyes.

The walker smacks into the fence, snarling, but Alicia doesn’t open her eyes. The fence will hold one walker off. She’s not even armed. Life at the factory is making her soft, making her feel safe. Too safe.

The door opens, and Alicia hears Al shout into the factory, “I have eyes on her! Yeah, I know it’s raining! I’ll get her back inside!”

Al steps out into the rain, walks right past Alicia up to the fence, and kills the walker with Alicia’s gun barrel. Once the walker falls, Al walks up to Alicia and holds the gun barrel out.

“You shouldn’t be outside without a weapon,” Al says. She has to speak loudly to be heard over the rain, now pouring out of the sky, drenching them both to the bone.

“I’m not in any danger,” Alicia replies.

“If the fence breaks –”

“It won’t.”

“Just take the barrel,” Al says.

Alicia takes it, hooks it on her belt. “Happy?”

“Very. Now let’s get inside, yeah? It’s fucking pouring.”

Alicia smiles. She turns her palms up, watches the droplets of water hit her hands. “I know,” Alicia says. “It’s nice.”

Al pushes her hand through her hair, slicks it back from her face. “You can’t stay out here alone,” Al says.

“Then don’t go.”

Al sighs. But she stays. She stands next to Alicia in front of the garden, gets poured on. Tears stream down Alicia’s cheeks silently, mixing with the water splashing against her face.

“We can’t stay out here all night,” Al says.

“Because you need to sleep,” Alicia replies. “You need to be ready to leave in the morning.”

Al doesn’t have to answer. Instead, she says, “Look, Alicia, if there’s something you want to say –”

“I don’t want to say _anything_!” Alicia shouts. She shoves Al by the chest, hard, knocking her off balance. Al holds her hands up in a gesture of surrender, doesn’t fight back, but when Alicia comes at her again, she grabs ahold of Alicia’s wrists and holds her off without much of a problem. Alicia’s sobbing too hard to put up a good fight. Her forehead drops against Al’s shoulder, her entire body shakes, and it continues to rain.

Al releases Alicia’s wrists, gently wraps her arms around Alicia’s upper back, lets her cry until she can barely keep herself upright.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” Al asks softly.

“You’re leaving,” Alicia chokes out. She’s mostly pulled it together, so she smashes her cheek against Al’s shoulder so she doesn’t have to look at her. She’s got two fistfuls of Al’s shirt in her hands. The rain doesn’t let up.

“Are you going to tell me why it’s affecting you so much?”

Alicia considers punching her, but she’s too exhausted. Instead, she scoffs. She stumbles back out of the embrace, shaking her head. “Forget it,” Alicia says. She swipes at the water on her face futilely. “Don’t let me ruin your plan to leave.”

“I just – I feel like there’s something I’m missing,” Al says. “So if you’d like to fill me in…I’m here now.”

“You won’t be,” Alicia snaps. “In the morning, you won’t be here anymore.”

“That’s the problem?”

“Of course it’s the fucking problem!”

“Why?” Al presses. “Why is it such a problem? I get why June’s upset, why Luci and Charlie are upset – but you? We’re friends, but Jesus, I didn’t realize I meant so much –”

“Oh, just shut the fuck up, Al,” Alicia sneers. “How about you just go?”

“How about you just tell me?”

“Tell you _what_?”

To that, Al doesn’t have an answer. Alicia doesn’t get how she can’t _see _it when it’s _right there _in front of her goddamn face. Why would Alicia be so upset about Al leaving? Alicia thinks the answer is pretty fucking obvious, but Al comes up empty. The confusion on her face tells Alicia that much.

Alicia steps back toward Al, hands clenched into fists at her sides, and she tells herself, as soon as she’s close enough, she’s going to punch Al square in the jaw. Who cares if she breaks Al’s jaw, or her own hand for that matter? Who cares?

Alicia, though, does not punch Al. Really, she should see it coming. She grabs Al by the front of the shirt and yanks her forward, pushing her other hand through Al’s drenched hair as their lips meet. Alicia feels Al’s muscles tense, and Alicia keeps her eyes squeezed shut. Still, Al kisses her back, Al cups Alicia’s face in her hand, pushes her fingertips against Alicia’s waist.

Alicia breaks away from Al to breathe, but with the water hitting her face, she still feels like she’s suffocating.

“Does that answer your question?” Alicia gasps.

*

She breaks Alicia’s heart when she leaves.

But maybe she knows it.

*

Five long years pass. The denim factory falls, like all of the settlements Alicia has belonged to. The only person to die, though, is Morgan, who refuses to believe the factory can fall. He stays even when everyone else abandons it.

John and June go their own way. Alicia expects nothing less.

Charlie is seventeen, and she’s been taller than Alicia since she was fourteen. Hit a massive growth spurt or something. She’s like Alicia in that she looks older than her years now.

Strand’s hair has started going gray sometime in the past five years. Alicia can’t pinpoint exactly when.

Alicia is twenty-nine. She feels like she’s lived three lifetimes, maybe more.

Luci is the only person that keeps Alicia sane anymore.

*

It’s a fluke, really. They’re driving through rural Iowa – though, as far as Alicia can tell, most of the state is rural – when they see _it_ parked on the side of the road.

“Stop,” Alicia orders.

Charlie brings their SUV to a halt, as ordered. “What’s wrong?” she asks.

“That’s the MRAP,” Alicia says. “That’s – that’s Al’s van.”

Charlie blinks, wearing a look of doubt, but she kills the engine. “Should we wake Luci and Strand?”

Alicia looks back, Luci curled up across the second row of seats, Strand snoring from the third row.

“Not yet,” Alicia says. “Let me confirm it’s her first.”

Charlie nods. “Be careful.”

Alicia smirks and unbuckles her seatbelt. “Aren’t I always?”

“No.”

Alicia laughs and throws the door open. She’d lost her gun barrel during their escape from the denim factory, but she’s since replaced it with two butterfly knives. Now, though, she pulls the Glock from its holster at her hip and carefully approaches the MRAP. It matches her memory of it exactly. She’s positive this is the one.

Right before she reaches the driver’s side door, it swings open. A boot steps out, followed by the rest of a body. Alicia stops in her tracks, breath hitches in her throat. She lowers the Glock.

Al looks the same, but at the same time, there are obvious differences. Her hair’s cropped shorter, shaved down at the sides and in the back, and as Alicia gets closer, she swears there’s a streak of silver in it. Al stands tall, confident, like Alicia remembers, but her jaw’s set, and there’s a nasty, jagged scar cut into her face, stretching from her eyebrow across the bridge of her nose, ending at her jaw. Alicia’s lips part as she tries to determine how old the scar might be. Months? Years? It’s not fresh, but it still looks…raw.

She’s dressed differently than Alicia remembers. Black jeans. A formfitting black shirt, sleeves rolled to her elbows. There’s a watch with a large face strapped to her left wrist. There’s some kind of handgun holstered at her hip, a knife sheathed at the other.

Alicia jams her Glock into its holster and runs to Al without thinking. She launches herself into Al’s arms, locking her arms around Al’s neck. Al’s arms encircle her, and Alicia closes her eyes, her lower lip trembling.

“You’re alive,” Alicia whispers. “I can’t believe you’re alive.”

“I told you I’d come back,” Al murmurs.

Alicia releases her, taking a step back. She holds onto Al’s arms, feels rigid muscle beneath the thin fabric of Al’s shirt. Alicia smiles, unshed tears gleaming in her eyes. “It’s been five years,” Alicia says.

“I know. You look…different.”

Alicia laughs weakly. “No, you do.”

Al shrugs. “It happens. Where, um, where’s everyone –?”

Alicia falters. “John and June split off after – after the factory fell. Morgan – he refused to leave it. He didn’t make it. Charlie, Strand, and Luci are all in the car. Strand’s only a little grayer than you are.”

“Hey! It’s one streak.”

Alicia grins, but movement out of the corner of her eye catches her attention. She pulls the Glock quickly, aims it at the target –

“Hey, hey!” Al yells, shoving herself between the moving figure and Alicia’s gun. Al holds her arms out, and Alicia immediately raises the gun, pointing the barrel at the sky.

“Sorry, I just – assumed it was a walker,” Alicia says, blinking.

“No,” Al says. She lets up on her defensive position but remains cautious. “She’s – this is Isabelle.”

Al steps to the side, and Alicia lays eyes on the woman named Isabelle. She’s taller than Al, just a little, with short, dark hair. Green eyes. She’s pretty, and she immediately offers her hand to Alicia. Alicia finally holsters the Glock again and shakes Isabelle’s hand.

“Alicia,” Alicia says. She clears her throat. “I’m an old friend of Al’s.”

Isabelle nods. Her grasp is firm, strong. “I’ve heard a lot about Al’s old friends,” Isabelle says. There’s a glint in her eye, a smile on her face – a smile that only grows when she lays eyes on Al. Isabelle loops her arm through Al’s, leans into her, and Al smiles. “It’s nice to finally meet you,” Isabelle adds.

“Yeah,” Alicia says faintly. “It’s nice to meet you, too. So…you guys have known each other for a while?”

“The past three years,” Isabelle answers. Al’s smile turns awkward, and she sheepishly rubs at the back of her neck.

Alicia nods stiffly. “I’m glad Al’s found someone to look after her,” Alicia says. Maybe her voice is shriller than usual. She isn’t sure. “Lord knows she needs it.” Isabelle laughs, and Alicia only barely manages a small, fleeting smile. “Hey, I told Charlie not to wake Luci and Strand,” Alicia tells Al, “but I’ll go get them. I know they’ll be happy to see you.”

Al nods. Alicia returns to the SUV and pulls the door open, popping her head inside.

“It’s Al?” Charlie questions.

“It’s Al,” Alicia confirms softly. She swallows hard and glances back at Luci and Strand. “Wake them,” she says. “Come say hi.”

When Alicia heads back to the MRAP alongside Charlie, with Luci and Strand stumbling sleepily along behind them, Al’s whispering something into Isabelle’s ear, and Isabelle’s nodding. Al stops as they approach, smiles as her eyes land on Charlie, just a couple inches shy of being as tall as Al.

“Hey, kid,” Al greets. “It’s been a while. You’re a lot taller than I remember.”

It’s been five years. Al might as well be a stranger to Charlie. Her memories of being twelve are vague at best, perhaps even suppressed. But Charlie smiles and shakes Al’s hand, and when Al looks to Alicia, Alicia just shrugs. Al must know Charlie barely remembers what it was like to have her around. At best, Charlie remembers Al defending her in the van from Alicia’s wrath. Maybe she remembers almost dying of antifreeze poisoning together. Maybe she remembers filming some interviews.

Maybe she doesn’t.

Luci hugs Al tight, says something to her that Alicia can’t hear, but it’s clear they’ve missed each other.

“You’re going gray,” Strand teases, jabbing his finger against the silver streak in Al’s hair.

“That’s my only spot, though,” Al replies good-naturedly. “Your hair is more gray than not now, buddy.”

“Ouch,” Strand laughs, hugging Al. “You gonna introduce us to your friend?”

Introductions are made, laughter is shared. Charlie stays at Alicia’s side, watching everything warily.

“It’s a quiet area,” Al says at one point. “We’ve been here a while. Minimal problems. You guys should think about sticking around for a bit. I can catch you up on what I’ve been doing, the people I’ve met, things I’ve seen. And you definitely need to fill me in on what’s been going on with you.”

Luci and Strand look to Alicia, and Alicia finds herself nodding. “Of course,” she says. “We can stay in the area for a bit.”

“Come in the van,” Al invites. “I’ve got a bottle of scotch stored away for special occasions."

“I knew it!” Isabelle exclaims, jabbing Al in the stomach. They laugh, and Alicia looks away.

The inside of the MRAP suggests exactly what Alicia’s been fearing since she first laid eyes on Isabelle. There’s something intimate about the space, about the way their belongings are all mixed together. Alicia figures out for certain that Al and Isabelle are _together _together long before they settle into the van and Isabelle kisses Al when she thinks no one’s paying attention.

It’s been five years, but it still hurts more than taking a bullet to the chest would.

*

Alicia doesn’t sleep that night. She reclines the passenger’s seat of their SUV and stares up at the ceiling.

“Alicia?” Charlie says around two in the morning.

“Hmm?”

“Al…she was at the factory with us for a while.”

Alicia exhales. “Is that a question?”

“Maybe. Kind of.”

“You were young,” Alicia says. Well, Charlie’s still young. “It’s okay if you don’t remember.”

“I remember,” Charlie insists. “Just…not very well.” Charlie pauses, and Alicia listens to her inhale deeply. “Did she always have that scar on her face?”

Alicia winces. “No,” she says. “That’s…new. Within the last five years, at least.”

“Oh.”

“Her hair was a little longer,” Alicia adds. “When you knew her.”

“Maybe that’s it.”

Maybe.

*

They stick around for a bit. Al’s right. The area is quiet. Not many walkers – or people. But plenty of supplies. Almost a week passes before Alicia gets Al alone while she’s refilling the van with antifreeze. Isabelle’s asleep inside, and Luci, Strand, and Charlie are still asleep in the SUV. Alicia hasn’t slept well since they first came across Al, so she’s up early, presented with the chance to talk to Al without other listeners.

“So,” Alicia calls, stepping up to the van, “when did you start getting so old?”

Al grins down at her and shakes her head. “I’m thirty-five, Alicia. I’m not that old.”

“That silver in your hair says otherwise.”

“It’s one streak! And this world really takes a toll on you, you know?”

Alicia hums. “I know.” She hesitates but finds herself motioning to her own face. “When did that, uh, happen?”

“Three years ago, roughly,” Al answers easily. “Got into…an altercation with a bigger guy.” She points at the windshield toward where Isabelle must be sleeping. “Isabelle saved my ass.”

“That’s how you met.”

“Yeah.”

Alicia nods and crosses her arms over her chest. It’s pretty cold, this early in the morning, and her leather jacket isn’t enough to warm her. “You’re happy?” Alicia questions.

Al finishes with the antifreeze and hops down, exhaling. She glances at the van then returns her gaze to Alicia’s face. “I am,” she answers. “This is what I’m supposed to be doing. I know it.”

Alicia nods again then clears her throat. “That’s good.”

“What about you?”

“Huh?”

“What about you?” Al repeats. “Are you happy?”

Alicia laughs, but it’s mirthless and dies off quickly. “Honestly?”

“Honestly.”

“No,” she says. “But there’s no way to fix that, so don’t stress over it.”

“Alicia –”

“Isabelle seems nice,” Alicia adds. She forces a smile. “I should get back,” she says. “Before they wonder where I’m at. We don’t usually go far alone.”

“You aren’t alone,” Al points out.

“I am,” Alicia says. “We always go in pairs. I’ll see you, uh, I’ll see you when everyone wakes up, okay?”

“You don’t have to go.”

“I do,” Alicia insists. “Charlie gets worried when I’m not around.”

Al nods. “You should think about staying with us,” she calls after Alicia has already started to walk back. “We’d love to have you guys.”

Alicia spins back around, stopping only momentarily. “We’ll think about it,” Alicia says, truthfully. “But I don’t know if this is for us. You get it.”

“I do.”

*

Alicia sits in the SUV, knees pulled to her chest, and she cries as quietly as possible as Charlie, Strand, and Luci sleep. She sees Al leave the van to kill a stray walker – the first walker Alicia has seen in probably a week – and Isabelle helps Al drag the walker off the road and light it on fire. They control the blaze easily, and Alicia tears her eyes away moments before Al’s eyes flick toward the SUV.

She can see them in her peripheral vision, talking. Isabelle fixes the collar of Al’s shirt, traces her fingertips along Al’s jaw, stares at Al in a manner Alicia can only describe as _lovingly_. Alicia wipes at her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt and forces herself to pull it together.

She reminds herself that she doesn’t need Al to survive in this world. Even if she thinks she does, she knows it isn’t true. She survived losing her entire family and Jake.

She’ll survive this, too.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments, and I'll respond as quickly as possible!


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